I don’t really know how this works. It was Gloria’s suggestion. I get that you have to look at me blankly like that when I say her name because of HIPAA bullshit. But I know you know who I mean when I say Gloria.

I’d do anything for that woman, including spill my guts to a complete stranger. Lucky you.

How am I doing? I could have lost her. I don’t know how I’m dealing with it. I guess not well. I wasn’t in the best place before this. It was better but still not normal.

I think Gloria’s worried that this whole thing with that asshole is making me backslide. She got me a kitten. Or a monster that looks like a kitten. But it’s nice to have something else in the house with me. It’s nice not being alone.

I had… I don’t know. Something like a panic attack right after Diller broke in.

I wasn’t there when she needed me. And don’t give me any of the “how could I have known she was in danger?” I should have known. I should have been there. I wasn’t. I failed her. Again. I failed her when she was sixteen years old, and I failed her again now.

But she saved herself. She didn’t need me.

And that makes me so fucking proud of her. Sorry.

I’m all mixed up about it. I wasn’t there. I failed her. In the end, she didn’t need me.

It still hurts. My leg. I’m tired. I used to never get tired. I get that it’s going to take time, but I don’t know if I’m ever going to feel normal again. I don’t know if I’m going to ever pull on a pair of shorts without thinking that I used to have two legs. Or not be exhausted after a full day of work. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to close my eyes and not see that explosion or Gloria holding a fucking frying pan with eyes as big as coasters.

Life feels…darker. Less certain. Everything feels vaguely unsettling. Except for Gloria. She’s like this beautiful bright spot in my day. There are things I want to give her…but I don’t know if I’m ready. And if I’m not ready, if I fail her again…

I’m pushing myself physically because it’s what I do. I’m making progress there. But maybe not so much emotionally. I have a closet full of left and right shoes and only one foot. I can still feel my toes that aren’t there. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference between real pain and ghost pain. And that’s what’s going on in my brain. I can’t tell the difference between real fear and ghost fear.

I don’t feel strong, and I was always strong. I was always the best. The hardest worker. I don’t know if I can get back to that. What am I if I’m not the strongest? The best?

I want to move forward with Gloria. But I’m stuck in this valley of fear, paralyzed.

I wasn’t there. But she didn’t need me.

If she doesn’t need a hero, what can I be to her? If I’m not a hero, what am I?